


I need you to be here (I need to see you crystal clear)

by kaleidxscope



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Bisexual Character, Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Character, Even is a sweetheart, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Self-Indulgent, Sexuality Discovery, Sonja is the best, allusions to past eat disorder, and so is Isak, but nothing graphic, evilde is mentioned and canon compliant, mostly - Freeform, you might think there's angst but you're wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidxscope/pseuds/kaleidxscope
Summary: Vilde joins the boxing program of a gym and her life takes a turn for the better+ friendship, love, self-discovery and the cutest girls.





	I need you to be here (I need to see you crystal clear)

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeey peeps! It's me again! I've been leaving everything on the side since January to write this hell of a fic (that was meant to be a one shot but then it got too long) to be able to post it today, to show love and respect for all the women out there, so my girls, be happy and fight for your rights this 8th March, you are all valid and important.
> 
> This fic was inspired by [this](http://theballxxnsquad.tumblr.com/post/171638468954/prettymysticfalls-ulrikke-falch-photographed-for) amazing photoshoot of Ulrikke and [this](https://youtu.be/w9C8gzql9Aw) Hayley Kiyoko's song (which is the origin of the title too)
> 
> I have so much to thank for, but first of all I want to do a little side note: I know this ship is really uncommon and that people might not like it and if you don't, then that's fine but keep it to you, you don't need to be rude in the comment section.
> 
> And now, the gratitude!
> 
> First, thanks to [Julia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules1398/pseuds/Jules1398), [Sarah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whovian1243/pseuds/whovian1243) and [Sue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Julieseven/pseuds/Julieseven) for betaing this and helping me when i made up words or didn't even remembered basic grammar, you are amazing!
> 
> Thanks to [Mars](http://ravenreayes.tumblr.com/), for reading this when I wasn't sure anymore of what i was doing and reassuring me, you're the best and your comments made my day and helped me to finish this <3
> 
> The biggest thank you to all the people in the Skam International Server for putting up with me and all the complaints I've been throwing there in the past few months, you're the best cheerleaders and I love every single one of you. But (another side note) I need to really thank [Steph](http://archiveofourown.org/users/isakyake/pseuds/isakyake), because you're just the light of my life, my only sunshine and without you helping me out with not only this but also all the stuff i was going through, this fic would have never been finished. And another special thank you to [Wyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wyoheartsmusic), because even though I can't prove it, I'm pretty sure you were the one that suggested Sonja when I prompted Vilde joining a gym and falling in love, so thank you my girl <3
> 
> That's it! Thank you to everyone who read this too!

The flier keeps staring at her, rather accusatory. It’s just a silly sheet of paper with a big logo reading _Frontline Academy_ , a bunch of boys and girls around her age with their right legs up on the air and an ad for boxing classes. It is _silly_ that someone could think she has something to do with that, or maybe the kid that gave it to her was just doing his job and didn’t really care about who ended up with one of those. But Vilde is sure that with her pink turtleneck, white skinny jeans and her white Adidas with pink stripes, she doesn’t look like the _type_ of girl who would make use of a gym pamphlet. Not that she knows what the exact type of girl to do so _is_ , but it’s certainly not her.

Still, she doesn't throw it away, not because she doesn’t have the chance but because it seems a better option to fold it and put it in her bag. _Maybe Magnus can make better use of it_ , is what crosses her mind. But she’s not sure she wants to give it to him either.

The thing about her relationship with Magnus is that no one outside the two of them understands it, like a little secret they agree on carrying with themselves. And Vilde really likes it, likes _him_. But not in the same way she used to—Magnus says it’s okay to say she never actually liked him as something more, and she’s getting there—, when they shared kisses and once or twice fell in bed together, just for it to end fast and without knowing what to do with it. And the façade with all their friends, about being an in-love couple, all sunshine, kisses and passion. Maybe it wasn’t a lie, not all of it at least. Maybe there weren’t so many kisses when they were alone, but it was still sweet, tender and Vilde loved it, _loved_ him.

It was a shock when they broke up after a year of dating, it was even more of a shock when they decided to move in together at the end of their last year in high school, a couple of weeks after Vilde’s mother entered the recovery program at Oslo University Hospital. Because it seemed pointless to keep paying a bunch of bills for a house that was so full of bad memories, photos of a happy family of three she and her mother no longer were, hadn’t been in a long time. And sometimes, she still blames herself for not making her mother move into another house sooner, after her dad died. Sometimes Vilde still feels like it is her fault she is like that, that she’s now in a hospital.

But Magnus knows. And Magnus is always there.

So maybe, no one understood it then and no one understands it now, but they do. And Vilde wouldn’t trade Magnus for anything in the whole world.

When Vilde opens the door to the flat she can hear the low rumble of the television and see the light in the living room on, and that makes her smile. She takes off her shoes and the matching pink socks make her shake her head. She definitely wouldn’t wear those at the gym. Her backpack follows suit and ends up on one of the hangers in the wall, flyer still safely tucked into one of its pockets.

“Magnus?” She calls, her voice high-pitched, just for the sake of getting an answer that doesn’t take too long to be heard, just her roommate announcing the room he’s in.

Vilde smiles and nearly runs across the tiny hall that goes across all the flat, entering the last door at the left and poking her head from behind the sofa Magnus is splayed on top of, just changing channels and eating a cinnamon roll that she’s sure they agreed on eating just on the weekends.

“Hi,” Magnus says, after noticing her and his smile makes Vilde’s widen, “how was your day?” he asks, getting up to leave Vilde a seat that she gladly occupies, folding her legs under her body and facing him.

“Great! I had lunch with Eva and Noora, did you know that they’ve already found a flat to move into? Isn’t it great?” She chimes in, tilting her face to the left and carefully watching Magnus’s reaction to the news.

Because that’s another thing, she thinks, the fact that she relies on Magnus so much with this. Eva and Noora moving in together after dating for over three years. It’s not that she’s not happy about it, happy for them, but it’s a bittersweet feeling inside her chest. It’s the thought of her and Eva kissing a few years ago, and how now she has a girlfriend that kisses her the same way. It’s the unasked question of if she was someone like Noora, back then, or just a friend.

Because that was the thing between her and Eva: they were just friends. And friends were only allowed to kiss while drunk, friends didn’t wonder if there was something else out there for them to be, friends didn’t ache to kiss their friends while sober. And Vilde wondered, ached and stayed up at nights thinking about how nice Eva was, how nice Eva’s lips felt against hers.

Then, Eva got herself a girlfriend, and the kissing stopped.

“Seriously? They’re moving in together?” Magnus asks, a confused frown on his forehead and that cute he usually makes while trying to think. “Oh, wait, I think maybe Jonas said something about it? Or Isak?”

And at that, Vilde can only laugh.

She realizes then, that it’s great, and she doesn’t need Magnus to tell her so. She’s happy for her friends, for how good to each other they are, and that’s all that matters at the moment. Noora and Eva are happy, Noora and Eva who have helped her so much even without knowing it. So yeah, Vilde laughs.

“You’re unbelievable!” She reprimands not actually feeling the slightest bit annoyed with Magnus. She folds her arms above her legs and tilts her head to the side, eyeing him as he tries to roll his eyes at her. He still needs a bit of practice though. “Anyway, they’re throwing a party this weekend, after moving in. So you better not make plans for it, because you need to help me organize everything.”

“Wait, why are we organizing it if they are the ones hosting the party?” Magnus says, a weird mix of confusion and offense in his face. And he may not admit it ever, but Vilde is sure he actually enjoys doing that kind of stuff with her.

So she’ll let it be, she won’t say anything about it and she’ll just smile, genuinely and wholeheartedly. And they’ll bicker later about it, maybe. About what snacks to buy and how much alcohol is too much alcohol, what’s the _right_ amount. About whether they should call Eskild to help them just to agree at the same time. And laugh a bit more.

And if when she goes to bed a few hours later she hasn’t mentioned the flyer to Magnus, if she feels like she can keep it for herself; _well_ , that’s just a late night thought.

❀❀❀

They end up doing the party on Saturday instead of Friday like they intended to, because when they’ve finished helping Eva and Noora with unpacking all their stuff, everyone is just too tired to move a single finger, not even to raise a drink. But it doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t, because on Saturday afternoon, Vilde kicks the couple out of their new flat to organize everything for that night and, of course, she drags Magnus with her.

They distribute the chores so that Magnus is in charge of buying alcohol and making sure everyone has at least enough bottles to pour three glasses of what they like the most, including soda, because she knows Even can’t drink a lot and Noora doesn’t want to. Vilde on the other hand goes from grocery shop to grocery shop until she finds all types of halal snacks, because she figured out a year ago that in the end is easier to buy them like this so no one has to worry about checking the ingredients before. She also orders four vegetarian pizzas, because Jonas won’t even eat chicken – she learned, after the third speech he gave for free, that he’s not doing it to impress anyone but because he cares about animals and their life conditions.

After two hours and three calls from Magnus asking what brand of tequila Eva likes and what he should get for Eskild because he doesn’t know what he puts in his drinks, she makes it right on time for Chris arriving to the flat with all the glowy material and her iPod full of music to blast. And she smiles, because no matter how hard her legs hurt from walking or how hard she’s trying to not call Magnus again and tell him to leave it to her, this night is going to be great. She knows she’s going to enjoy herself and, what it’s even better: her friends will too.

On top of all, she hasn’t been thinking about the flyer and how it’s still tucked inside the pocket of her bag, not at all. It’s not like she made her way back a bit longer just to pass by the gym in question, or that she stopped in front of the storefront to see the people training there. It’s not that she tried to imagine how would it felt to have her muscles sore from exercise. She misses it, a bit, she doesn’t have that much time to do it now and her flat is not close to any parks where she could train on her own. Sure, she has one or two free afternoons, but there’s something holding her back in the end. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s no one to check that she actually does it. She’s not sure.

So, the same way she doesn’t think about it, the topic doesn’t make an appearance in her mouth at all.

It’s while they’re hanging some pics of Noora and Eva in their first year (most of them quite embarrassing) that Vilde brings it up for the first time. And all because she’s currently putting a photo of them all in gym class atop a lamp.

“Do you remember when we used to work out? I don’t think I would have the same strength to do it now, we’re getting old.” Vilde says, and she laughs it off like it’s just a joke, goes on to the next pic – one from their first trip to Chris’s cabin.

“What? Vilde honestly, do you realize how much exercise you do on a daily basis?” Chris chimes in, stopping what she’s doing to face her. “I would love to have the same amount of energy as you. Just – look at all this. This might equal a full gym session, look at that ass you’re sporting!” And, because she’s Chris, she smacks Vilde’s ass softly.

And because she’s Vilde, she has to laugh and stop doing what she’s doing to play around with Chris, running around the living room and shielding herself with the cushions she helped Noora choose. Chris chases Vilde and Vilde in return throws a duvet at her, they try to stay away from photos and their work, but some end up flying around. Somewhere inside her, Vilde realizes it’s a pity they can’t capture this too.

In the end, they lie on the couch, a bit breathless, still laughing when they look at each other and Vilde, at least, is feeling a lot more at peace.

“I kind of miss exercising more, though.” She says, when her voice allows her to do more than to whisper.

“You could join a gym, have you thought about it?”

The answer makes her stop, glance at Chris and meet her smile. Yeah, _maybe she has_.

 

When the clock strikes midnight, the party is still in full swing, though not in a wild way like they used to be back in their high school years, but it’s clear that no one has the intention of moving it to a club or another house. They are there, together and that’s enough. Vilde has enough.

The focus of every guest has been mostly on the lovely couple moving in together. Yet, now that some of them have more alcohol in their veins – namely Isak and Eva – there’s a couple’s contest about which one is the cutest one. Chris is apparently the judge of it, while Even and Noora are trying to stop them from shouting their arguments in each other’s ears and despite the multiple groans and faces they’re doing, the endearment is all over their faces. Magnus and the boys are on the couch, splayed on it like they own it and fighting over the last remnants of the pizza while Eskild and Sana chat about something that, judging by Eskild’s puppy eyes, must have something to do with another Bakkoush. Not that it’s a secret anymore.

It’s messy, maybe. But Vilde loves it to the point where it makes her truly and fully happy, makes her want to smile and laugh and even sing. Because these people in front of her are a family, siblings and cousins she never had.

And maybe she’s a bit tipsy, too.

It’s not that common nowadays for Vilde to drink, or at least for her to drink enough to consider herself _tipsy_. Not after her mother decided that she wanted to follow Vilde’s advice, to get help at the hospital for her problem with alcohol and the depression, and Vilde felt bad just at looking at the empty cabinets in her old kitchen, the phantom of the bottles that one day were stored there still haunting her. So she made the decision to stop getting drunk and wasted, to not miss her life and regret morning hangovers ever again.

The fact that other people in their group of friends did – and do – the same, helped her to stop seeing it as a mistake if she wanted to have a glass once in a while, it helped her to enjoy the party as it was and not as something not to remember the next morning, as she did in high school – the little memory she still has of that one night around Christmas when she passed out, still in her mind.

But now is not the time, she realizes, to wallow in bad memories she’s not planning on reenacting. So she shakes her head to make them disappear and just to have something to do she decides to make a trip to the kitchen to take a soda out of the fridge and refill the snack bowls.

The kitchen is not really big, matching the rest of the flat, but it’s lovely to see how, just one day into their new home, her friends have already decorated it to make it their own. Nothing from the brand new flat, bare of the memories that she saw when Noora asked for her help with the couch pillows. Now, on the metallic surface of the refrigerator there’s a calendar and a picture of Eva hugging Noora from behind, a stack of post its, the first one with a big and weird heart on it, a picture of all the girls together in their russ van and another one from when – she guesses – Eva, Jonas and Isak attended Grefsen.

Vilde smiles, watching the pictures, and can’t help but brush her fingertips over the one where all of them are hunched with paint in their faces and big smiles. It makes her happy, so so happy, to know that what they have might as well be a forever. She wants it to be.

She’s so out of it, between the remnants of alcohol in her veins and the memories that she doesn’t even realize when she stops being the only person in the kitchen, and when her company talks out loud, she can’t help to flinch.

“Hello there, girl. Having fun?” Chris asks, with a hint of amusement at the way her best friend reacts. “Want another glass of my _magical night in a bottle_?” She adds, the name of what she did before (a lot of juice and a lot of tequila) in a slurred English.

“I was actually aiming for a soda, I think I’ve had enough of your… what was the name again?” Vilde asks, more teasing than actually wondering the name, and scrunches her nose a bit. “Want some?”

Chris eyes her and pretends to think for so long Vilde is sure she would have already gotten herself a drink, but she doesn’t complain, instead she just laughs and when Chris sighs dramatically, she lets out a high pitched laugh.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll keep you company in your sober misery.”

It’s all Vilde needs, she knows Chris’s words come from a place of love and she understands why she does what she does, even when they don’t talk about it. Chris just knows, reads Vilde like an open book. And more often than not, she’s glad for it, for having the ease of not having to voice her own thoughts for Chris to hold her and rock her until everything seems better, or at least less painful.

She takes out two sodas from the fridge while Chris washes two glasses, because Eva and Noora’s kitchen equipment is still very limited and they have probably already used every single solo cup Magnus bought and a lot of the crystal glasses they own.

They exchange a can for a glass, respectively and toast as soon as their glasses are full. For a bit, they just drink in silence, Chris reclined on the table and Vilde with her back against the counter. Best friend facing best friend and the faded music and chat from the living room as a background sound. But it’s not uncomfortable, it never is between them.

It’s that moment that Vilde realizes, just because Chris is not saying anything, that she herself has something to say. Something that’s been nagging in her mind for the last week, and especially for the last couple of hours. Chris rises up an eyebrow, a way to tell her to proceed to speak whenever she feels like it.

It’s not too long, just a few seconds, what they have to wait.

“Do you think…” She starts, stopping herself to think a bit more before starting again. “I thought about it, joining a gym? There was this kid on campus who gave me a flyer for a gym not too far away. But I’m not sure if I…”

Her thoughts are moving too fast and too much for her to make sense of them. There are a few fears inside her head to really know what she wants to say first, what is real and what just a product of the alcohol loosening up her mind. Chris just waits for her to find her voice again, always patient when Vilde needs her.

“What if I’m not good enough? Or what if I become too obsessed with it?” She finally says, voice barely a whisper and eyes fixed on the content of her glass.

The way Chris leaves her glass on the table and looks at her is enough for Vilde to know that she gets what she’s trying to say.

They don’t need a lot to communicate, and Vilde is grateful for that because this way, she can throw all her insecurities, all her bad thoughts in the space between them and Chris will be able to give them shape just to break them later and reassure Vilde with a few words. Because Vilde doesn’t like to be a source of pity, she doesn’t want sweet nothings that her mind will destroy later. She needs the truth.

“But you are much better now, you know? Remember our first year, and the year before we met the rest of the girls?” Chris asks, and Vilde nods even though she doesn’t want to. Her father died the year before they started Nissen, and everything inside her home went to hell, including her. “There’s nothing from that Vilde now, when I look at you. You’re stronger and you’ve made it here, you took care of your mother, graduated, started college. You have so many things to do and some much people loving you.”

And, if Vilde allows herself to remember the good things, the revue group, their russ time, how they fixed everything when things went bad, Eva, Magnus, new friendships and her first day of college – she can see it, what Chris sees in her. So she smiles.

“If you want to join a gym, I’m going to cheer you on every single day, but I hope you don’t steal all the boys from me, promise?”

Vilde’s smile grows wider and she nods, stepping into Chris’s space and hugging her. Doesn’t even think about the pang inside her for her last words.

“Promise.”

❀❀❀

She’s been pacing in front of the gym for over ten minutes now, it doesn’t even make sense. She’s been talking and discussing options with Chris, she showed her the flyer and they even looked up the place on the internet – and that’s exactly why she has her sport bag hanging on her left shoulder, because they say you can have your first class the same day you join, and that might be the fastest way to know if she wants to stay there. So there’s just not a rational way to justify her behaviour.

But she’s not being really _rational_ right now.

She has looked through the window a couple of times by now and the image remains the same: a front desk with a woman in sweatpants and a green top behind it, a couple of turnstiles and, at the very end of what her eyes allow her to see, a bunch of people exercising and what looks like the corner of a ring.

There’s nothing intimidating about it apart from… _everything_.

Momentarily, Vilde regrets having refused to Chris’s idea of walking her to the door because that way, she would have been inside the gym for over five minutes _at least_ by now. But just momentarily, because that would also mean she wouldn’t escape from going inside and signing up.

Even though she knows her best friend would never force her to do anything, it’s a nice reminder in her head to finally, _finally_ , breathe and open the door. And now that the bell has rung and the lady at the front desk has seen her _and_ smiled, Vilde knows there’s no going back.

“Uh – hi!” Vilde greets, as soon as she makes it to where the woman is, checking her computer. She tries to smile and she does, for a couple of seconds before her face falls again and she looks down at her own feet.

“Hi there, welcome to Frontline, how can I help you?” The lady replies, her voice a sweet tone and a blinding smile on her lips. It makes Vilde relax a bit, just not enough so she can smile again and not play with her own fingers to try and talk without stutter.

“I was – I want to join the boxing program? I have this flyer and…”

“Let me find you a form, sweetie.” She doesn’t even have to finish her sentence before the lady is interrupting her and crouching behind her desk. Vilde frowns, tries to look at her and right in that moment she surges back up with a paper that hands to Vilde along with a pen.

It’s a regular form, she realizes. Complete name, address, email, phone number and birth date along with some medical and exercise questions related. She fills it in just a couple of minutes, always under the attentive look of the woman in front of her – Vilde is sure she does it just in case she need help, but it’s making her nervous.

As soon as she’s done with it, she looks up and shily smiles, hiding it back.

“Great! It might take a bit while I make your card, you can come later or if you want you can start now.” She explains, the permanent smile still on her lips and Vilde can only nod. “Okay then, lockers room are right there at the left and then you can ask Sonja to show you around and explain the basis.” She stops for a second, turning around and only then Vilde realizes she can see the whole ring now. After finding what she was looking for, the lady points at someone. “There. The girl on the left of the ring with the gray top? That’s her.”

Vilde sees a girl with her back to them, sipping from a water bottle. She’s wearing black tight shorts that cover her legs to the middle of her thighs, a gray top that doesn’t reach her lower back and white sneakers. She’s too far away to be sure, but Vilde thinks she can see her _glow_ , it doesn’t matter if it’s because of the sweat.

She acknowledges the lady’s instructions with a nod before re-adjusting her bag on her shoulder and walking in the direction she was pointed to as the locker room. But before she enters it, she turns again to watch that girl, still resting on the side. She looks gorgeous, even from behind, and Vilde asks herself if she will ever get to that point.

It doesn’t take her too long to get changed but she still uses a couple of minutes more to try and fully relax herself, when her phone pings with a text from Chris wishing her luck, she smiles wide and open and now that it’s now or never.

“Hi, I’m – I’m Vilde, the lady at the front desk told me to ask you for help? It’s my first day with the boxing program.” She says, as soon as she reaches the girl that is now seated on a bench, tying her sneakers. The girl – _Sonja_ – looks up at her and immediately smiles, getting up.

It’s the first time that Vilde sees her face and it takes her by surprise just how beautiful Sonja is. She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t look even half as good with all that sweat in her face and whole body, she’s not even sure she could look like _that_ even with the best make up.

“Oh, hey! Nice to meet you. I’m Sonja.” She greets, extending her hand in Vilde’s direction but changing her decision in the last moment after realizing how sweaty her whole arm is. “Have you ever tried boxing?” Sonja asks, instead, and when Vilde shakes her head, she just nods with a soft smile in her lips. “Okay, don’t worry, we’ll start from the beginning.”

And from the beginning they start. Sonja shows her the basics, a couple of rules inside the ring and how to move around it, what they use for practice and in actual fights – at this, Vilde goes pale and Sonja laughs, reassuring her that she won’t have to really do actual fights if she doesn’t want to.

They move around each other, or Sonja moves around her, trying to figure out Vilde’s strong limbs and the best position for her, the tightness in her every muscle and how to make the most out of her small body. Sonja isn’t too tall either, but Vilde can see now she’s strong, it’s like her muscles had been painted: strong but still beautiful.

But there’s something else, inside Vilde’s mind when they’re trying to figure out how fast she is or how much she can raise her legs in the air. A feeling of knowing, there’s just something familiar in the way Sonja nods every time Vilde does something right, in her smile and the way she makes her way around the ring, with grace and sureness. It’s like she has seen her before but can’t point out where, and for a moment she worries it was just in a magazine, an instagram post or even a dream – not that she thinks she could actually dream about Sonja.

It doesn’t hit her until she’s trying to show Vilde how to hold up her arms to protect her face and Vilde sees _it_. A cherry blossom tattoo in just black lines in her inner arm, right above her elbow.

And just like that, Vilde can put the face inside a party, with multiple dots in shades of yellow and red neon.

After one hour and a half they decide to call it a day and sit down on the bench beside the ring, the same one Sonja was occupying when Vilde approached her. She’s talking about this and that, boxing tournaments and what she found more difficulties with when she started, some tricks and encouraging words. But Vilde can’t bring herself to say something back, too deep inside her head with the new knowledge she has about Sonja. Or maybe _old_.

When it becomes clear Vilde is not going to participate in that conversation, Sonja seems to change her strategy to make her talk.

“So, how was your first day?” She asks, and Vilde looks back at her just to be met by that same sweet smile.

“Tiring,” Vilde confesses, scrunching up her nose a bit before realizing that even though that’s true, she’s on the good side of tiredness, the one that makes her body ache to crawl into bed but also fills her with happiness. “But great, thank you.”

“No problem. I’m here on Mondays and Thursdays, in case you want to be with me for the classes.” Vilde nods at that and after a couple of seconds where no one says anything, Sonja gets up, running her hands through the fabric of her own shorts. “Well, see you, Vilde.” She says, waving with one hand and grabbing her now empty bottle of water.

And Vilde can’t let her leave just like that, no before she’s sure.

“Sonja, wait.” She calls, and Sonja stops altogether, turning around to face her. Sonja doesn’t say anything, and Vilde knows she can ask and risk to make things weird between them or just keep the doubt inside her mind. In the end, the first option wins: “I just – Do you remember me? From the…?”

“Kosegruppa at Nissen? Yes, but it took me a while.” Sonja interrupts, tilting her head to the side and smiling even more than before. “You’re not easy to forget.”

And just like that, stealing every single word from Vilde’s mouth, Sonja leaves.

❀❀❀

Only four classes in and Vilde is already regretting her decision of joining the gym and picking boxing as sport. It’s not that she’s bad at it, she’s _disastrous_. She doesn’t know how to throw punches or how to block them; she doesn’t know how to align her body or what to do with her feet. She’s totally hopeless and she fears every single new class will be the last because Sonja won’t be able to keep dealing with Vilde’s clumsiness.

Yet, Sonja never says a thing. She only encourages Vilde more and more, applauding every single right move, as small as they’ll be, forcing her to stop when she can’t breathe anymore (because Vilde keeps driving herself to exhaustion just to prove her value). And she’s sweet, so so sweet it should be illegal.

Vilde is not sure when it happens, but Sonja goes from _Even’s ex-girlfriend_ to a _Greek Goddess_ in just a few weeks. She’s strong, smart and funny, she doesn’t let anyone look down on her – or Vilde, for that matter – and she defeats every single one of her male partners. Everyone seems to be a bit in love with her, a bit enamored with her technique and smile.

And she has great hair, too. But that’s not something Vilde is going to admit, because there’s something about complimenting Sonja whenever she wants to that feels _wrong_ and _right_ at the same time, that makes her insides churn and makes her feel warm.

But she’s not ready to acknowledge that either.

 

Left. Right. Backtrack. Protect. Left. Left. _Touched_.

Right. Up. Protect. Left. Down. Down. _Touched._

“Vilde–”

“I’m sorry, I know, yeah I can keep going. Don’t worry.” Vilde pants, her arms still folded and her glove-covered fists still up. Her breathing is just a succession of short hard intakes of air and even faster exhales. Her hair is damp with sweat and her ponytail – neatly done just half an hour ago – is a total mess with blonde hairs poking everywhere and sticking to her skin.

Yet, she couldn’t care less about her image right now. She just wants to keep going, to do one series in the correct way. She just wants to wash off every single trace of pity and concern from Sonja’s face. But she won’t let Vilde achieve her goals in peace.

“Vilde, stop and breathe. You’re not going to make it if you stop breathing,” Sonja says, taking out her hand pads and throwing them to the floor.

Vilde wants to complain, to say that she’s fine, that she can continue and who is Sonja anyway, to tell her where her limit is? But with every passing second, she can surely feel how sore her arms are, how numb her fingers are becoming from being inside the gloves and how it’s a bit difficult to breathe.

“Let me help you,” the older girl adds, softly taking both Vilde’s hands in hers and taking away the gloves. Right and then left, a sweet caress in every one of them after taking the piece away. Once they’re lying with Sonja’s hand pads on the floor, she also lets Vilde’s hands go. But they stay a bit longer suspended in the air, aching to be touched again. “And now, take a deep breath.”

As to exemplify, Sonja moves her hands to her own chest and breathes in for almost five seconds, letting the air go away just as slowly as it entered her body. When she’s about to do the second breath Vilde joins her and allows her body to follow every single movement the other girl does.

In, out, _repeat. In, out. In. Out_ –

“Better?”

Slowly, Vilde opens her eyes, not even knowing when she closed them, when she let her guard down to relax like that in the middle of a gym. If she’s honest, she can’t pinpoint the moment she stopped listening to her surroundings to just hear Sonja’s and her breathing, singing in synchrony. But she did, and only now is she able to hear again the shouting and the music. And she can feel Sonja’s eyes roaming her face – and she can feel it turning red as the realization of her sweaty state hits her. So she nods, quickly and soberly, before averting her own eyes to the floor.

“You have to relax, okay? There’s no way you’re going to be able to stop all my moves and be fast and strong enough to hit back if you’re this tense.” Sonja calmly explains but Vilde doesn’t understand. How can she be both relaxed and in a state of alert? How can she be focused enough but not _too_ focused? Something and her face must betray her because next thing she knows, Sonja is walking around her. “Here, let me show you.”

Sonja moves until she’s right beside Vilde and the younger girl tenses in a blink. _Why_ , well, wouldn’t she want to know _why_. But she can’t help herself and when Sonja puts her right hand on Vilde’s waist, her whole body wants to scream and battle. Half of her wanting to escape the touch and its burn, the other half wanting to melt into it.

Her fingers are delicate, flat against Vilde’s covered skin but surely leaving an invisible mark on it. She applies a bit of pressure, drawing Vilde’s body towards her, getting her to shift her position and move back her right leg. Then, as softly as the other touch was, Sonja puts her hands around both Vilde’s elbows and pushes up until she bends her arms. The same position Sonja showed her the first day, but now it feels like too much. _Intimate_.

“This is the position you have to remember. Your strong leg needs to be behind so you can gain balance without losing mobility.” She says, patting Vilde’s outer thigh with her hand. But the touch doesn’t last and before she can linger on it, it’s gone. “Then, you have to remember not to put your fists too high or too low.” Sonja adds, gently showing her the incorrect positions for her arms, and Vilde’s limbs follow with obedience, just letting them being moved around.

Because even if Vilde is hearing every single word she says, she’s not actually _listening_ to them. Too focused on how close in Sonja’s face, just a bit behind and above her shoulder, how low and personal her voice is. _Or maybe that’s just her_. But it has Vilde swallowing thickly around a lump that wasn’t before in her throat.

“You get it?” Sonja asks, and Vilde lets out something resembling a squawky _yes_ , but again, she’s not sure of anything anymore.

Or she is. Sure of how warm Sonja’s breath feels against her skin, how she lingers on her arms, sweet soft caresses on the sides of them; how she’s not going away but she’s not adding anything else, either. Just stays there, close enough so it feels like she’s touching her everywhere, and far enough to not feel her like Vilde wishes she could feel her. She closes her eyes after the realization of her own thoughts and wishes hits her full force. But maybe there’s no place in denying it when she only wants to let go. And she hasn’t felt so warm and scared in her whole life.

“Sonja, I need the ring! Are you done?” Vilde gets suddenly ripped off the spell by a male voice calling after her training partner and she wants to scream because after what felt like second – minutes, hours or even ages – in that peaceful state of mind, it feels outrageous to be pulled apart.

But Sonja tears herself away from Vilde and she already misses the touch.

“Yeah, sorry Bjorn. We just finished.” Sonja replies, and Vilde wants to say it’s just her imagination, but she’s sure there’s a bit of disappointment in her voice.

Vilde gathers her gloves and bottle of water and although she’s ready to go to the locker room and head home for the day, she also dreads it more than ever. The moment she’ll say the last word to Sonja until the next week. Something about it unsettles on her stomach and makes her want to curl on her bed, or in the couch to watch some soap opera maybe, cook with Magnus. Anything not to think about what her mind keeps screaming, about what has just happened. But again, Sonja breaks all her plans with her gentle voice.

“Are you heading home already? I’m too tired to stay here, so I could walk with you. If you’d like that.”

As fast as the discomfort made a home in Vilde’s body, the same warm feeling from before kicks it out to fill up her stomach. And she smiles, like she hasn’t smiled in a while. And maybe she can wait a bit longer to shut up her mind.

“I would love that.”

❀❀❀

What starts as a lucky coincidence evolves into routine and suddenly Vilde finds herself walking with Sonja after every single class. She’s not sure _why_ , because Sonja never left at the same time she did during the first four times Vilde went to the gym, but she’s not going to ask either. Because maybe she enjoys it a bit too much.

Vilde quickly learns that Sonja works in a music store and hasn’t given college a try, even though she would like to, eventually, but she just doesn’t know what she would like to do. She also learns that Sonja has a cat named Pepper (and after seeing a couple of pics, Vilde wants to pet him). There’s also the fact that Sonja’s been boxing for four years and before that she used to swim a lot. She likes to read crime novels and her favourite show is Black Mirror, but she also enjoys soap operas (something she confesses while beautifully blushing the fifth time they walk together).

She learns that apparently Sonja finds everything Vilde has to say highly interesting, so she starts talking a lot more. She tells her about college and how she had doubts while picking a major, about how wonderful early education would have been, working with kids and teaching them, but how in the end she opted for Sociology because she feels like she can help people with it, and that’s what she really wants. She tells her about Magnus, furiously blushing when Sonja asks if they’re a thing, so Vilde gives in and explains what she can explain to her – _no we’re not, we were but we are better this way, he’s my best friend_ – and Sonja doesn’t tease her, just nods and smiles. Like she understands. She tells her about Chris and the girls, about things they did in high school and their russ time, how they didn’t even get a bus but a mini-van instead and it was the best decision. She tells her about their cabin trips in winter and the one time she got bitten by a snake in summer and thought she would lose a leg.

The best of it all, it’s that Sonja listens and smiles and asks her more. Like she really cares, like she really wants to get to know Vilde. And that makes her feel warm.

Yet, there’s a topic neither of them ever brings up, even if it’s why they know each other, why maybe they can have this now. Sonja never talks about Even, never mentions him even when she talks about old stories or her high school time. She never acknowledges him and that makes Vilde wonder.

She wonders if there’s something wrong, if maybe Sonja just doesn’t want to remember him or if she resents Even and, if she does, if it has something to do with Isak. It scares her to think that maybe, Sonja might not be as sweet and caring as she seems. It makes her wonder if Sonja could be mean to her friends – to _someone_ else.

When she opens the door to the café, she would like to say that it’s just a coincidence that she decided to pick that one at the exact time Even would be there, but in the end not even she is naive enough to believe it. Vilde has known – since she started to grab coffee to go, nearly at the end of her third year – that he would be there on Wednesday mornings. Because that’s exactly why they’ve become close in the past few months. And if she arrives just a few minutes before Even’s shift is over and she doesn’t have any other plans for the morning, no one has to know.

“Vilde!” Even greats her before Vilde can even open her mouth or reach the counter. It makes her smile how cheerful Even seems to be, how happy to see her. “Same as always?”

Vilde nods leaning over the counter to look at Even while he makes her coffee, and he’s quite a sight. Booping his head and his hips at the song playing on the radio, Vilde can’t quite recognize it but Even must love it. Or maybe he’s just bright like that – Vilde quite suspects that’s the case.

“So how’s everything going?” Even asks, turning his head enough to look at her from above his shoulder, the coffee machine whistling. That’s another thing Vilde loves about Even, he always seems to care about how everyone is doing.

“Great, actually. Magnus and I had the door to the kitchen fixed the other day. The one Isak tried to fix?” She tells him, biting her lower lip to avoid the giggle at the memory of Isak frustrated frown at the door and all the swearing.

Even, on the other hand, lets out a beautiful laugh.

“He’s going to be so pissed. I caught him the other night trying to decipher what was wrong with your door.” Even says, and Vilde can totally picture that image in her head. “I guess I’ll have to break one of our doors so he can be happy, I hope you’re proud of it.” He tries to give her a hard look, but not after three seconds of intense stare between them, they both giggle.

When the machine stops making its noise, Even takes the cup from it and turns around until he’s standing directly in front of Vilde, only the counter between them. He sets the cup of coffee atop of it and Vilde can’t help but to move her hand between the steam, letting the warmness tickle her skin.

“There you go.” Even says, putting a couple of sugar packages and a pink plastic spoon (because he knows Vilde like that) besides the to-go cup. “If you’re not in a hurry, I’m about to finish my shift.” He adds, an unasked question in his words and a smile on his lips as Vilde hands him the exact amount of money for the coffee.

She only nods, worried to let too much enthusiasm out if she speaks. Because that’s actually what she wants, what she’s here for. Even what she _needs_ , but again, she doesn’t want to think with big meaningful words.

“Okay, then give me a couple of minutes and I’ll join you.”

Before neither of them can say anything else, there’s another person at the counter calling for Even’s attention and a caffe latte, so Even goes back to his last minutes of work and Vilde grabs her order to go to one of the empty tables by the window to wait.

She tries to sort her thoughts in the meantime, the best way to approach the subject and, basically what it’s exactly what she wants. And Vilde knows for a fact that she can’t start the conversation talking about _her_ , about how many doubts she rises inside her head – and her belly –, she knows she can’t. So she won’t. But knowing what shouldn’t be the starter of the conversation doesn’t make it any easier to start.

True to his word, Even doesn’t take too long swopping the black apron for his sweater to meet Vilde, a huge bright smile on his lips. So Vilde has to smile back, they’re easy like that.

“So, how’s everything going, _V_? You’re still going to that gym you told us about, right?” He asks and Vilde scrunches her nose at the nickname, she doesn’t really mind it (actually, she kinda likes it) but it’s just an habit by now.

It all started with that movie with masks that Isak complained it was “too much Jonas”, just for rectify a bit later and say that Jonas and Mikael were the worst and Even shouldn’t spend so much time with them and their communist ideas. But Vilde enjoyed it and when Even said it was _V like Vilde_ , she felt something light up inside her. So, no, in the end, she doesn’t really mind it.

She minds it even less when Even just gives her the right excuse to bring up the topic she wanted to discuss with him all along, like he has read her mind.

“Yes! I had the session earlier this week!” Vilde answers, smile across her glossy lips, and this is what she needs, just to keep talking about it until she can bring in Sonja into the conversation. “It’s – you know, I’m not that _great_ at it but people are nice, they–” _she_ , her mind says instead “they are helping me a lot.”

Vilde can feel her own cheeks heating up and redden so she ducks her head and takes a slow sip of the coffee. If Even notices the change in her face or demeanor, he says nothing, just nods and drinks from his own coffee.

Then, there’s silence and Vilde can’t help but think Even knows there’s something up, that this isn’t just a regular meeting for them, a lucky coincidence for Vilde to walk into the café at the same time Even ended his turn. And she thinks, if he really suspects a thing, he’s not wrong at all.

So with another warm sip and a burst of courage she’s not sure where it’s coming from, Vilde speaks again:

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you… do you remember Sonja?”

When the name makes it through Vilde’s lips, she feels like shivering. Maybe she is, after all so she hopes it’s possible to blame it on the chill air of early December. But the words are already out there and there’s nothing she can do to take them back, to pretend like they were never in the air at all.

Even frowns at the question and looks at Vilde like he’s trying to analyze her, seeing through her. Or maybe he wants to know why Vilde would say such a name, why would his friend put him through something like this, something hurtful, something he has already forgotten – or wanted to. Something that maybe hurt Isak to his core.

She hopes not. She truly does.

“Sonja as in… _my_ ex-girlfriend?” Even replies, finally, and quirks an eyebrow. He looks confused and even curious, and Vilde’s not sure, but the grin on his lips looks strangely like a smile. A puzzled and wondering smile. “Sure, I remember Sonja. Why?”

“She’s in my gym,” Vilde says, her voice an octave higher than usual, before she can stop herself. She averts her eyes from Even’s face to the table with the two cups of coffee and then even further down to her own hands that are starting to sweat with how much she’s rubbing them. “I just… She trains there too and she’s been helping me a lot but I – I wanted to ask if that’s okay with you and Isak because I know that… you know, so I just – I don’t know.”

“Wait, what?” It’s the first thing that leaves Even’s words after Vilde’s confession – because it feels like one, and not of the sweet type. “Oh fuck. It’s true, I totally forgot, she’s been boxing for a few years now. I didn’t remember the name of her gym, otherwise I would have told you. I’m sorry.” He adds and Vilde wants to see his face, but she can’t look up.

Every single word makes her want to curl and go back in time, not to the moment she entered the café but to when she decided to sign up to the gym. She wants to apologize because now she’s sure: Even is hurt. Even is disappointed. Isak is going to be hurt too as soon as he finds out. And it’s all in Vilde. How could she think the world was nice and Sonja had a wonderful soul?

But the thing is, a voice inside her still wants to believe it.

“No, I’m sorry, Even. I didn’t – I should have asked you sooner.” Vilde apologizes, so low it would be a miracle if Even has heard her; but she fears she would just start sobbing if she tries to talk out loud. When Even doesn’t say anything, she speaks again. “She seemed so nice, I didn’t want to think she could have hurt you both or hate you because… because you…”

“Vilde, what are you talking about?” Even interrupts. And that’s not what she was expecting to hear, so she glances up, back to Even’s eyes and this time they show even more confusion but also concern. “Has Sonja told you anything like that?” He asks, and Vilde would bet there’s a shred of hurt in his voice, in the way his eyebrows are completely down, framing his blue eyes. And even his eyes, which Vilde has always admired for their brightness, seem sad.

Has she? _No_ , she’s never said a word about them, or about Even alone. Sonja has never acknowledged the fact that they did indeed date until two years ago. Until Isak appeared in Even’s life. Until a boy took away what Sonja loved the most, her fairy tale.

Or that’s at least what Vilde thinks had happened.

She shocks her head, slowly and painfully and goes back to stare at her own hands, but now they’re around her cup, trying to warm up. Because no matter how cozy the café is or how sweaty her hands were not even two minutes ago, now she feels an utterly cold inside her.

Disappointment. _Heartbreak_.

“I just don’t want to see you upset. I don’t want to befriend someone who could ever hate you because… because of Isak.” _Because he’s a boy, and you are, too_. Vilde adds, only for her, and she should find the bravery to make Even know that she doesn’t want anyone to think badly of them because of that. So she swallows, hard and heavy, and tries her best. “I don’t ever want to befriend someone who would hate you just because you love a boy.”

A single second is all Vilde dares to spend looking at Even from under her eyelashes, afraid of seeing the pain in his face, the lost forgotten heartbreak. Because surely Even must be at least half as heartbroken as Vilde is. Because surely Even must have loved Sonja once, and remembering that she hates him – and Isak – sounds bitter, at the very last.

“Vilde? Look at me, please.” Even says, voice so soft it makes her want to cry. Because even when he must be hurting, he’s a good friend like that. He understands Vilde is in pain at the mere thought of what they’re discussing. Maybe he can even see what Vilde refuses to look at inside herself.

But she can’t look at him, no matter how hard she wants to be the one there for Even. Because he deserves brave and good friends, he totally does. Even’s hand travels until he’s softly touching Vilde’s own, which is gripping her cup, and that calms her a bit, allows her fingers to go back to their normal colour.

“Vilde, I’m not sure where did you get that from, but Sonja doesn’t hate me or Isak, and if she did it wouldn’t be because we are both boys.” He goes on, after Vilde has made clear she won’t look at him. And there’s a tiny moment, just a fraction of a second where Even’s words hit at something inside her, with so much more force than any punch. “She’s a good person, and so are you.”

_She’s a good person._

_Yes, she is_ , she wants to say; _she’s lovely and cares so much, I wish she would care about me as much as she does about everything._

But she says nothing, just leaves her cup on the table and glances up at Even, who is waiting for her, smile on display and crinkled eyes. He gives her hand a last squeeze before letting her go and then keeps smiling, waiting for her to find her voice, probably. Because Even has always been able to read her like that.

“So she’s… she doesn’t hate you because you’re dating Isak?” She asks, tentatively and in a low voice, scared of being too loud, scared of her own words turning true. She’s tired of being scared, but she doesn’t know if there’s something else for her. “She’s not a homophobe?”

“God, no. She doesn’t and she’s not.” Even hurries to say, almost tripping over Vilde’s own words. He shakes his head and his face contourts like he’s trying to bite back a laugh, or a smile. Like he can’t believe what Vilde has said, because it’s totally ridiculous.

But Vilde is still feeling the pang of hurt inside her, like maybe, just maybe, Even might be lying to not upset her. She knows that’s probably not the truth, still she can’t help but think about it. And Even must seem to feel it, because after give an once-over to her face, he speaks again.

“Listen, if she ever hated me when we broke up, it would have been because I was a jerk to her back then and not because Isak is a boy, okay?” He reassures her, voice soft and eyes even softer, and when Vilde nods, he smiles. “But she’s always been nice enough not to hate me. Besides, it would be pretty hypocritical for her to hate me for that.”

And _that_ is the last thing Vilde was expecting to hear, probably. Because she can’t start to understand what could Even possibly mean by it.

“What do you mean?” She asks, too curious to just stay with the nice part of Even’s words, the confirmation of what her heart was aching to prove, that Sonja is a good person, that she hasn’t hurt her friends.

Even looks at her, almost like he’s analyzing her with just his eyes, trying to come up with what to say or maybe if he has already said too much. In the end, he lets out a quiet sigh and looks down. For once, is he who doesn’t meet the other’s eyes.

“You know, I haven’t been always this proud of myself, of wearing a pin with the pansexual flag in my jacket and kissing a boy outside.” He murmurs forcing Vilde to really zoom in on his voice so she won’t miss a single word, not wanting to; because she doesn’t even know where he’s going with it. “I was fifteen and fucking scared of what it could mean to look at all kinds of people the way I was supposed to look at girls. So I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t have to anyway, because I had a massive crush in one person alone, a beautiful and kind girl.”

He pauses and smiles for a second, maybe at the memory, maybe at how weird it might look for him to be opening up like this to Vilde. But she has the feeling that it’s the former, and Vilde can feel her own lips twitch upwards. She knows, she knows what Even means.

“But when we had been together for a year, I started to feel bad about it, about how I lied to her and felt wrong when looking at guys.” Vilde’s heart clenches at it, she doesn’t like the thought of Even hurting and she wonders if Isak did too, if Eva and Noora did too. If, maybe, that’s what she’s doing, too. But Even doesn’t allow her to go deeper inside her head. “And I remember this one line she said, completely normal and like it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

He looks back at her again, small smile playing in his lips and that’s better, she thinks.

“She said: _Even, let’s play a game. If you weren’t currently dating me, who would you like to hook up with? I would totally choose Alisha._ ”

There’s a second where realization hits Vilde like a freight train, because for a moment she doubts if she had this all wrong, if maybe he wasn’t talking about Sonja, but then the story wouldn’t make sense is such a context. So she wonders and wonders and wonders. Until it hits her. Faster than a train. The same way it hit her when Eva put her lips on hers so long ago. A tingle, a whisper, a touch.

“Sonja was the first person I met who was vocal about her own sexuality, who didn’t hide who she was. She made me realize that it was okay for me to feel what I felt, she explained to me what she felt and how the word bisexual made her feel at peace. And when the word didn’t make me feel like that, she helped me in finding out a new one.” He continues, not seeming to know or maybe avoiding the fact that Vilde is looking at him like he just revealed the life’s secret. “She always posted all this stuff all over her facebook and for a while she did it for me too. I mean, I don’t have a facebook account anymore, but I’d bet she still does it.”

He keeps and keeps going, trivial things and words, silly stories more about him than about her, remarkable posts he remembers, the first pride he went to. And now Vilde knows, Even is just talking to give her background noise, a bit of fake privacy in the crowded café. She knows, because when she manages to smile, he smiles too and stops talking mid-sentence.

“She’s a good person, Vilde. She’s pretty fucking awesome.”

After that, there’s only one thing Vilde can say:

“She is.”

 

After leaving the café and just because she really need to see it with her own eyes, she looks up Sonja on facebook – and almost screams out loud when she realizes it’s public. The first thing she does is check her profile pic, just because that’s what people usually do. And if it leaves her a bit breathless in the cold no one has to know.

It’s actually not a really elaborated photo, she doesn’t look like a supermodel – or, she _does_ , but like an effortless supermodel, which is even worse –, her hair a bit shorter than now, almost the same length as when they met years ago, a red and black turtleneck jersey and an overall. She looks pretty – _more_ than pretty. There’s something about the way her lips are half open and her white teeth are showing, something about the light reflection in her skin, about her blonde hair and the multiple earrings she’s using.

Vilde kind of loves it.

She smiles to herself, in the middle of the street, and closes the picture to look through her last posts. There’s not much, one every four days or even a week; there’s one about the gym they both go to, another about some scandal with European Politicians Vilde is sure she has heard about and then, dated from one week and three days ago, there’s one about a social group for LGBT people. It’s a shared post, but Sonja had written on it before posting on her wall and Vilde stops to read it.

It’s simply amazing, the passion and the courage she puts in every single word, how shamelessly she puts her heart and mind in just a simple post. Vilde doesn’t know, how much this can actually do for the world and, if she’s being realistic, not too much. But it does, for some people. It does, for her.

Vilde’s so enraptured by the post that she doesn’t even realizes she’s still very much in the middle of the street, not until some guy complains and hits her shoulder while trying to pass by her side. And Vilde’s face becomes red in just a second, suddenly remembering what her excuse for grabbing a coffee during Even’s shift was.

Sana’s birthday.

She still has two weeks and a half before the big day, but she already knows that she’ll be too stressed with Christmas presents to find time for everything, so it seemed like a good idea to buy something for her now. And sure, she has talked with the girls and Isak and Even to make her something big too, but Vilde feels like Sana deserves something more and that Vilde doesn’t always show her how much she loves her.

That’s why she’s going to buy something she would really like, an idea she got after studying in Sana’s room one day and saw the walls covered by a bunch of singers and bands she hadn’t hear about until that day. Or until today, for that matter. Because it would have been weird to ask Sana about them when they both know Vilde has no interest in them.

Once she finds the music store she was sure is near the Kaffebrenneriet Even works in – so many Wednesday’s visit have made a good job in making her remember the places nearby the café – she decides to lock her phone, no matter how hard she’d prefer to keep reading whatever Sonja has posted in the last months.

And as soon as she puts a foot inside the place, she’s glad for her intelligent decision, because a cheery voice she wouldn’t have mistaken not even in a hundred years welcomes her.

“Hi! How can I help you?” Sonja greets, a playful smirk on her lips like this is a game they’re playing: not knowing each other and having the seller-customer cordiality between them.

Vilde would play, only for how happy Sonja seems from seeing her there. Or maybe she’s just that nice to everyone, maybe she’s having a good day and has nothing to do with the blonde girl blocking up the door to the store. But she looks so pretty, with her purple t-shirt reading _Hornaas_ and her hair being held by a couple of hair clips above both her temples.

“Uh, I – hi!” Vilde says back, suddenly feeling conscious of her trail of thoughts and furiously blushing. For a moment, she doesn’t even remember what she’s there for. “I didn’t know you work here.”

Because _yeah_ , she knew that Sonja works at a music store, but she didn’t know it’s exactly this one – even though she’s not sure she would had picked another one, had she known.

“Well, here I am. At your service.” She smiles, bending a bit like she’s doing some kind of bow, her right leg crossing the other from behind and that same arm being raised in the air. It makes Vilde blush even more, and if Sonja notices when she looks back at her, she doesn’t mention it. “So, do you need help with anything?”

The question, or maybe Vilde’s desire to stop blushing as if she had a sunburn in the middle of December, seems to make her remember everything and puts her in action, she takes a look at the store and it’s easy to see that although there’s only one employee – namely, _Sonja_ – there are multiple clients that might need her help even if just to pay. So she shakes her head at first but promptly stops the movement and rethinks her answer (not that Sonja’s fallen smile has anything to do with it).

“Actually I’m not quite sure what to buy. It’s Sana’s birthday in almost three weeks and I know she loves music. I just don’t know what _type_ of music.” She starts to talk, mostly to distract herself and partly because she has always been a nervous talker. She goes on a ramble about how they don’t share tastes in music and pretty much everything else until, at one point, she stops and looks at Sonja right in the eyes. “You remember Sana, right?” She asks, feeling dumb for not having asked before.

“Elias’s baby sister?” Sonja replies, and when Vilde nods she does it too. “Pretty vividly. I used to hang out with her when the boys were being… well, _boys_.” She adds, with a shrug and a smile that looks, at least, fond. And yeah, maybe Vilde can relate to the feeling with her own boys. “Come with me, I have an idea.”

And just with that, they roam the whole store together, sharing smiles and glances and Vilde blushes a bit because she’s not sure if they should be talking about anything or everything but she feels comfortable nonetheless. In the end, they stop almost at the farthest part of the store.

“Here.” Sonja says, proudly pointing to the shelf that reads ‘90s Hip - Hop’ with both arms. But Vilde has no idea what she’s looking at –or _for_ , for that matter –. Yet, she still pretends that she does and starts to look through the multiple covers and name tags and even hums once or twice. “Vilde?” Sonja calls behind her, amusement unmistakable in her voice. “Do you actually know anything about hip-hop music or are you just looking at the covers?”

“I… I don’t have any idea. It’s not what I usually listen to. I think I’ve never even heard of these names.”

It’s almost a relief, to admit it and look back at her in the same moment Sonja tries to bite back a laugh. But there’s nothing mean about it, so Vilde lets one of her own slide through her lips and soon Sonja joins her.

When the moment ends, Sonja takes her place and in less than half a minute she’s back with an album and hands it to Vilde. “This one is her favourite, I don’t think you’ll have any problem with it.”

Vilde looks at it, it reads _Beginnings: The Lost Tapes 1988–1991_ from someone called _Tupac Shakur_ , and even if she’s not sure who he is – or _was_ – the face in the cover and the name sounds familiar, which means it has to be in one of Sana’s posters. She grins, happy of having found something that Sana will probably like. She’s so happy about it, she almost misses Sonja’s next question:

“So, what music do you listen to, then?”

“Pop, mostly.” Vilde regrets it almost immediately, it sounds _lame_. Who does just like pop and nothing else? Pop is what you listen to in the radio when there’s nothing else, or in summer, when artists from all over the world fights for the _Song of the Summer_ title. Pop is not something you willingly listen to everyday and enjoy. Especially, not _cheesy pop_.

“Yeah? I think I know one singer you would like.” Sonja replies, her face lighting up and seemly disagreeing with Vilde’s mental rant. “Have you ever heard of Hayley Kiyoko?” Vilde tries to search any trace of the name inside her brain but when nothing pops up she just shakes her head, and Sonja’s smile grows impossibly wider while she points to her left and takes Vilde by the arm.

She can’t do anything but follow her, and she doesn’t complain.

They end up in front of a shelf labeled as ‘G – K’ and as Sonja starts looking through the multiple CDs there, Vilde takes her in, shamelessly looking at the way her hair is a little disheveled in the back and the curves of her body. It makes her thickly swallow. But maybe it’s for the best that she feels like what she’s doing is not right, because if she hadn’t stopped looking at her, Sonja would have find out, looking at her again only one second after her cheeks flush.

“Here.” She says, handing to Vilde the CD she took from the shelf. The girl takes it and reads the cover _Citrine_ , there’s some kind of pool in the middle of a desert with a yellow sky, nothing that gives away what’s inside yet Vilde tries to find out just by staring at it, until Sonja speaks again and her words make Vilde look up at her. “It’s on me.”

“What? But I just can’t –”

“Hey, it’s a present, okay? Just take it and pay for Sana’s.” Sonja interrupts, putting one of her hands in the lower part of Vilde’s back and gently pushing her to the front desk, not allowing her to say more.

If Vilde enjoys the touch or feels her face warming until the point where she doesn’t remember how to speak or even how to _breathe_ , no one has to know.

When they reach the front desk, Sonja breaks the touch and walks to the to the opposite side of the counter, extending her hand to take Sana’s present and scanning it. She’s quiet while typing on the computer and wrapping the CD in green paper, sticking a gift tie on top of it. Even after Vilde has given her the money for it, she’s still not saying a lot and Vilde worries she’s done something wrong.

That’s it, until Sonja is about to hand the bag with the two albums and stops, her hands halfway between them.

“You know… some of the guys from the gym and me are going out this Friday. Would you like to join us?” She asks, and Vilde’s astonishment might be visible even the nervousness, because Sonja doesn’t let her talk before adding something else. “I would love it if you could come and make me company. Too much testosterone for my liking.”

It sounds so offhand. Vilde knows Sonja loves them and enjoys teasing them and hanging out with them very much. It has been one of the topics in their weekly walks. So she doesn’t really want to read a lot into Sonja’s words, but again, she’s only human and has hopes. And her hopes are screaming that Sonja wants her there.

And who is she to deny Sonja anything at all?

“Okay, I’ll be there.” Vilde concedes, and the high pitched sound Sonja makes alongside the way she’s clapping, like that’s the best thing she’s heard in months or _years_ , makes Vilde be even surer of her decision. “What time and where?”

“I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock.” Sonja says, a lot more collected now, and smiles _almost_ shyly at Vilde who, in return does the same. It doesn’t weight on her yet what that implies, she doesn’t really think a lot about it, just smiles a bit more and waves her off while walking towards the door.

 

Later that night, when she’s safely tucked in bed under her duvet and sheets, she puts the CD in her laptop and plugs her headphones to listen to it. And she smiles, at how beautiful Hayley’s voice is. And she feels happy, because Sonja gave this to her. And she blushes, furiously, when she realizes the lyrics has nothing to do with platonic feelings for girls. In the end, she also falls asleep with the rhythm protecting her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! And if you did, why don't you leave a kudo or a comment so I can know how you feel about this?
> 
> Second part is being writted and I really hope I can have it ready in the next couple of weeks or Easter. And I have so so many other WIPs! I can't wait for them to be finished so you can all read them!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://theballxxnsquad.tumblr.com)


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